


5 Times Spock Almost Figured It Out

by JenTheSweetie



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-04
Updated: 2013-07-04
Packaged: 2017-12-17 15:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/868974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenTheSweetie/pseuds/JenTheSweetie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And one time they actually let him.  Spock's journey of discovery through shared bathrooms, Betazoid weddings, and Dr. McCoy's attitude of general cantankerousness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Times Spock Almost Figured It Out

**Author's Note:**

> I'm honestly not sure if it's canon or fanon (and please feel free to set me straight, I'm new and learning), but I heard and immediately loved the idea that the captain and first officer share a bathroom. Regardless of the real situation, this is the result.

 

1.

 

In the year they had been sharing a bathroom, Jim had never been anywhere near what you could call “neat.”  Spock knew that human men were naturally messy, and though Spock tried to avoid stereotyping the captain as he so frequently evaded categorization, in this case it simply fit.  Jim left his sonic toothbrush next to the sink, discarded half-empty cups of water on the counter, and dropped dirty clothes on the floor with alarming regularity.

 

So, as Spock leaned down to collect the captain’s latest offense – a pile of clothes on the floor, clearly the result of Jim undressing carelessly before getting into the shower that Spock could hear running through the closed door to the shower room – he almost didn’t notice at first that mixed in among the pants, command shirt, undershirt and two socks, there were not one but two pairs of men’s underwear in the pile.

 

This was most curious.  He could not determine why the captain would have been wearing two pairs of underwear.  A few select encounters had revealed to Spock that the captain occasionally went without any underwear at all, and though that too was puzzling, it at least constituted a pattern.  The fact that the captain had been wearing two pairs of underwear was out of the ordinary.

 

Spock wondered if perhaps the captain was ill.  He knocked on the door that separated the shower from the main part of the bathroom.  “Captain?”  No answer.  “Captain, are you all right?”

 

“I’m just fine, Spock, do you need something?” Jim replied.  He sounded a little out of breath; Spock knew the captain liked exceedingly hot showers and hoped the steam was not too thick for Jim to breathe.

 

“I was simply curious as to why there are two pairs of underwear in your pile of discarded clothing,” Spock said.

 

There was a pause.  “Just, uh,” Jim said.  “You know.  Accidentally put on two this morning.”

 

“I see,” Spock said, though he did not.  This must be yet another aspect of human male hygiene that eluded him.  “Very well.  I will deposit them in the laundry chute.”

 

“Oh, no, don’t do - don’t worry about it, Spock,” Jim called.  “I’ll be out soon.”

 

“No matter,” Spock said, opening the chute and dropping the clothes down.  “It is done.  Enjoy your shower, Captain.”

 

“Thanks,” Jim said, and it sounded a bit like he was laughing, though as far as Spock could tell the brief conversation had not contained any humor at all.

 

2.

 

“Doctor, have you injured yourself?”

 

Dr. McCoy looked up from the padd he was reading.  “What?”

 

Spock tilted his head, continuing to examine the doctor from across the table.  Next to him, Uhura was plucking at the Vulcan harp Spock had recently given her.  At McCoy’s side, Jim was still puzzling over his next move in their chess game.  Spock had already calculated that his own odds of beating the captain in this match were fairly good, and had thus been able to devote some of the time Jim took between moves to study the others in the officers’ rec room.  He had noticed what appear to be a small, circular injury just below the doctor’s left ear.

 

“You have a bruise on your neck,” Spock said.  “I did not notice any injuries on your person yesterday, hence my inquiry.”

 

“A bruise?” McCoy barked.  He reached up to his neck and covered the place where the bruise was.

 

Jim coughed loudly, covering his mouth with both hands, and Uhura looked up from her harp to peer at McCoy’s neck.  McCoy’s face turned red, a physiological reaction Spock had noticed he was prone to in moments of embarrassment or anger; currently, Spock could not determine which was currently the more likely emotion for the doctor to be feeling, as neither seemed appropriate to a discussion about a minor injury.

 

“That looks like…” Uhura began.

 

“Don’t even say it,” McCoy interrupted gruffly.

 

“It looks like a bruise,” Spock said, glancing at Uhura.  “Does it not?”

 

“Yes,” Uhura said firmly, a small smile playing at her lips.  “Exactly.”

 

“Were you going to say it looked like something else, Nyota?” Spock pressed.

 

“Not at all.”

 

“How did you acquire such an injury?” Spock asked, returning his attention to McCoy.

 

“Yeah, did somebody hit you, Bones?” Jim asked, staring intently at the chess game.

 

“Stuff it, Jim.”  McCoy’s face was even redder than before.  “I’m not injured.”

 

“Are you quite certain, doctor?” Spock asked.  Jim was coughing again, loudly, but it sounded rather more like laughter than most coughs did.

 

“I’ll see you all later,” McCoy said, standing up and leaving the room at a near-run, his hand once again clamped over his own neck.  They all watched him go, and out of the corner of his eye Spock saw what was distinctly a grin flit across the captain’s face before Jim turned back to the chess game, his face a perfect picture of seriousness.  Uhura leaned back in her seat and picked up her harp, rolling her eyes.

 

 

3.

 

The trip to Betazed had been most satisfactory from a diplomatic perspective, Spock thought, looking around the cocktail party and taking a quick inventory of the assembled crowd.  Most of the bridge crew were gathered around Chekov, who seemed to be entertaining them and the Betazoid Chancellor with an enthusiastic and very loud story.

 

Recruiting more Betazoids to Starfleet Academy was the number one priority of this mission; the telepathic skills that most Betazoids honed throughout their lifetimes were extremely useful in negotiations as well as in counseling.  Together he and the captain had started some very promising conversations with the Betazoid council about encouraging more young Betazoids to apply to the academy, and the Chancellor had invited all of them to this party to spend additional time together.

 

“Great party, right?” Jim asked, stepping up next to Spock and surveying the small crowd gathered on the rooftop deck of the Chancellor’s house.

 

“The crew seem to be having a good time,” Spock said neutrally.  As if they had been cued, Sulu, McCoy, Uhura, Scotty and the Chancellor burst into laughter as Chekov’s story concluded.

 

“It’s the punch,” Jim said, grinning and nodding in the direction of the drink table.  “It’s spiked.”

 

“That explains the abnormal taste,” Spock said, glancing down at the cup in his hands.

 

“Captain,” the Chancellor boomed, leaving the group and walking up to Jim and Spock.  “Mr. Spock, good to see you both.”

 

“They first spiked punch in Russia, you know,” Chekov’s voice drifted from the group.  “But with vodka, not Romulan ale.”

 

“Young Chekov here has been regaling us with the most delightful stories about your home planet,” the Chancellor said, smiling.  “I am so enjoying all of your company.  You are not planning to leave orbit for another day, is that correct?”

 

“We have business on Volan III in – “ Spock began.

 

“We’re around for as long as you’d like us to be,” Jim interrupted, and Spock closed his mouth.

 

“Wonderful,” the Chancellor said.  “I was hoping you would say that.  It would be my honor if you would all attend my daughter’s wedding tomorrow.”

 

“The honor would be ours,” Jim said graciously.  “I’m afraid we don’t have any gifts for the bride and groom, though.”

 

“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” the Chancellor said.  “Although – there is one thing you could do.”

 

“Anything, sir,” Jim said.

 

“My younger daughter, Solara, has been unexpectedly left without an escort to the wedding,” the Chancellor said.  “It would be most well-received by some of our guests to have the captain of a Federation starship accompany her to this event as part of the wedding party.  Of course, I have heard that the expectations of guests at Terran wedding ceremonies are rather less – ah – intimate than at Betazoid ceremonies, so we would of course understand if you’d rather not participate.”

 

“Intimate?” Jim said, tilting his head in curiosity.  “How so?”

 

Spock knew all about Betazoid wedding ceremonies.  He felt something suspiciously like amusement rise in his chest and permitted the corners of his lips to curl up for one moment – smiles did make emotion-centric humanoids more comfortable, he reminded himself, so this was simply his duty in diplomatic scenarios - before squashing the emotion.  “As the Captain is currently unpartnered, I’m sure he will be most happy to participate,” Spock said dryly.  “Modesty is not a problem in this case, Chancellor.”

 

“Modesty?” Jim said, nonplussed.

 

“Wonderful!  We all look forward to seeing you tomorrow,” the Chancellor said, clapping Jim on the back and grinning at Spock.  “Solara most of all, I’m sure.”  With a wink, he disappeared back into the crowd.

 

“Modesty?” Jim repeated, turning to Spock.

 

“Indeed,” Spock said.  “Guests at Betazoid wedding ceremonies are completely naked.”

 

“Naked,” Jim said.

 

“And at the conclusion of the ceremony, there is the wedding party’s ritual dance,” Spock said.  Jim blinked.  “You don’t have to learn anything, the females lead the dance.  It is frequently a precursor to a sexual relationship, though this is not a requirement of the ritual.”

 

“Oh,” Jim said.  “Um.”  He glanced over at the bridge crew, now watching Mr. Scott tell a story that apparently involved wild gesticulations with his hands.

 

“Captain?” Spock asked.  “Is there a problem?  I have not ever known you to oppose an evening with a young woman.  Betazoid females are, objectively, extremely attractive.”

 

“Right,” Jim said, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it.  “So – just to get this straight - we’ll all be naked?”

 

-

 

The next morning, before the ceremony, Spock arrived early for breakfast.  Nyota stayed behind in the room to continue getting ready and, Spock assumed, to avoid him.  She had been less than thrilled when she had learned that he had committed the bridge crew to attend a Betazoid wedding ceremony, and had made some rather scathing comments about him being the “least romantic life-form in the universe.”  Spock understood that nudity was not the custom among Vulcans or Terran humans, as he explained to Nyota, but he could see no reason they should not to adhere to that custom while on a diplomatic mission to Betazed. This did not seem to be a sufficient explanation.

 

He supposed he had not thought of the fact that Nyota, too, would have to be naked in front of the crew and scores of unknown Betazoids, but he was confident that their bond was secure and assured her that he would not be uncomfortable with other men observing her body.  He realized this had been a logical but not altogether emotionally subtle response after Nyota had narrowed her eyes at him and snapped, “I’m sure you won’t, Spock,” before stepping into the bathroom and letting the door slide shut behind her.

 

He would have to deal with that later.

 

Spock assumed he would be the first to arrive at breakfast, but as he entered the small officer’s mess, he heard the captain’s voice from a table in the corner.  The two occupants, Kirk and Dr. McCoy, had their backs to him and seemed to be in a quiet yet heated discussion.

 

“It’s not my fault,” Jim was saying.  “I didn’t agree to it, I swear.”

 

“But you didn’t back out, either.”  McCoy sounded furious.  Not an altogether unusual emotional state for the doctor, Spock thought, and though he had known the captain and the doctor to argue frequently (“More like bicker,” as Nyota would say), he could not remember ever hearing McCoy sound so angry with Jim.

 

“It’s just one day,” Jim said, and his voice was measured and gentle.  Very curious.  Spock had never known the captain to give any less than he got in an argument with anyone, particularly McCoy.

 

“And one night,” McCoy snapped.  “Aren’t you supposed to take her home afterwards?”

 

“Is everything all right, gentlemen?” Spock asked, setting his tray down next to Jim.  The both whipped around to face him; Jim looked startled and McCoy, irritated.

 

“Just fine, Spock,” Jim said.

 

“Hmphf,” McCoy said non-committally, picking up his fork and spearing a piece of Andorian fruit with unnecessary brutality.  Spock wondered what their argument had been about.  If he had not known better, he would have thought McCoy had been expressing displeasure about the possibility of Jim having a pleasant time at the wedding, and perhaps afterwards, with the Chancellor’s daughter; however, considering that McCoy had never before displayed any type of negative attitude toward weddings or Betazoids, Spock was forced to conclude that McCoy’s general cantankerousness must be the root of the argument.

 

They ate in silence for a few minutes.  McCoy continued to borderline attack his plate, but Jim picked at his food, and Spock wondered what could possibly have the captain in such a bad mood.  It would be most inconvenient for Jim to be unhappy during the events of the day, as it could be disastrous for their recruiting mission if the captain of the flagship of the fleet appeared any less than enthusiastic during such an important Betazoid ritual. 

 

“Are you looking forward to the nuptials this afternoon?” Spock asked.  “I have read that Betazoid weddings are most intriguing, especially considering the unusual addition of public nudity.”

 

Though conversation just for the sake of ending a period of silence was not logical, Spock had long since learned that it was nevertheless sometimes effective in breaking a tense mood.  In this situation, however, unnecessary conversation seemed to have the opposite of the intended effect: McCoy suddenly stood up and backed away from the table, his tray clattering loudly.

 

“See you at the wedding,” he said flatly, shoving his tray in the recycler.  Jim scowled down at his plate.

 

“Did I say something to upset the doctor?” Spock asked.

 

“Not at all,” Jim said heavily.  “This one’s on me.”

 

The wedding, as it turned out, _was_ most intriguing.  The captain was animated during his dance with the Chancellor’s younger daughter, and seemed, as Spock had assumed he would be, completely comfortable with dancing nude in public.  He clapped politely as the ritual dance ended and the other wedding guests began to join in on the dance floor.

 

“Pay up, Pavel,” Spock overheard Sulu mutter to Chekov as the crowd surged.  “I told you!”

 

“Eet eez impossible,” Chekov said, looking stunned.  “Impossible!  No man has that much self-control during a dance like that!  And certainly not ze Keptin!”

 

“Captain Kirk is full of surprises,” Sulu said, chuckling.

 

“But eet is an automatic, physiological reaction…” Chekov trailed off as he and Sulu joined the now crowded dance floor.

 

Jim extracted himself from the crowd, squeezing himself in between Spock and McCoy at the edge of the room.  

 

“Having fun, Captain?” McCoy asked wryly.

 

“Definitely,” Jim said, grinning.  “How was my dancing?”  
 

“Satisfactory,” Spock commented.  “Will you be seeing the Chancellor’s daughter again?”

 

“What?  Oh, yeah.  Of course.  Right now, actually,” Jim said.  “I think I might get a drink first, though.”  He turned to look at Dr. McCoy and clapped him on the back.  “Bones, you wanna come with me?”

  
“Sure,” McCoy said.  “After watching that, I could use a drink.”  They threaded their way through the crowd in the direction of the bar.

 

The captain did not reappear for over an hour, and Spock preferred not to dwell too long on what he had done in his absence.  Dr. McCoy apparently stayed at the bar for quite a while, and had just joined Spock at their table as Jim returned with a sheepish grin and a bright red handprint on his backside; this seemed unremarkable by Betazoid wedding standards and if anyone else noticed, they didn’t comment. 

 

“Betazoid women, right?” Jim said as he sat down gingerly, and McCoy snorted.

 

The only thing he would have done differently, Spock thought to himself as he watched Nyota’s lithe body on the dance floor between Chekov and Sulu, if he had to do it all over again, would have been to suggest that Nyota stay behind.  Jealousy was a most inconvenient and tiring emotion.

 

4.

 

By the time Spock had finished his final report on the mission to Command, most of the main bridge crew had gone off shift; only Sulu remained to stare blearily at the helm controls.  Spock considered relieving him, but there was no one around in better shape to replace him.  None of them had slept for a while.

 

The mission on Rutia IV had been tense from the start. The planet was embroiled in the beginning stages of a serious internal conflict, with terrorists targeting government officials and civilians alike. The Federation had instructed the Enterprise to provide medical supplies and attempt to counsel the local authorities in strategies for managing terrorism.

 

After more than twelve hours of discussions, they determined that the Rutian government was never going to respond well to Starfleet’s suggested negotiation tactics.  Kirk, Spock, McCoy, Chekov, the medical team, and the accompanying security ensigns were preparing to beam out when the bomb exploded.

 

It was chaos.  Spock, stationed near the door with McCoy, had avoided the blast, but the rest of the landing party, including the captain, had been wounded.  Spock and McCoy had sprung into action; Spock pulled out his communicator and directed the Enterprise to beam up Chekov, the three injured ensigns and four medics, and as they began to fade, he saw that McCoy had dropped to his knees beside the captain.  Spock took a quick look around and determined that the scene was as secure as it could be for now; they would have to wait for Scott to beam them aboard the Enterprise.

 

“Spock!” McCoy shouted.  “Over here!”

 

As Spock approached McCoy and Kirk, he saw that Kirk’s injuries were among the most severe; he’d been standing directly next the police chief at the time of the explosion.

 

“Is there anything I can do, doctor?” Spock asked.  McCoy grabbed him and shoved his hand against Jim’s upper thigh, using his other hand to wave his tricorder over Jim’s chest.  Spock could smell singed hair and feel the heat of Jim’s blood as McCoy pulled out his dermal regenerator and yelled over the noise, “Hold him here, his femoral artery has been cut, he’ll bleed out in three minutes if we don’t stop it.”

 

“Watch where you put those hands, Spock, you haven’t even taken me to dinner,” Jim whispered, his face unnaturally pale.  Around them, Spock could hear the anguished moans of the injured Rutians and feel the pounding of feet running down the hallway as Rutian emergency personnel joining the fray.

 

“Get – all the crew up there first,” Jim said.

 

“They’ve already gone, Jim.  Mr. Scott, three to beam up,” Spock said into his comm as Jim’s eyelids fluttered and threatened to close.

 

“Hold on, Jim,” McCoy urged, placing a hand on Jim’s cheek.  “Just hold on.” 

 

As they reappeared on the transporter pad, Spock lifted the captain up and walked briskly to sickbay, trying to ignore Jim’s blood dripping onto the floor of the hallway.  The noise in sickbay was almost as overwhelming as it had been on Rutia IV; the remaining members of the medical team, their numbers halved by their own comrades’ presence in the blast zone, were frantically assessing and treating injuries.  Spock set the captain down on the nearest biobed, and it beeped loudly and sporadically as McCoy continued to apply pressure to Jim’s wound and wave the dermal regenerator over the captain’s leg.

 

The next twelve hours had been consumed with duty. With half the medical and command teams injured, anyone with medical training was called into sickbay and the rest of the bridge crew worked two straight shifts.  Spock had checked into sickbay frequently at first, trying to ascertain Jim’s status. Eventually McCoy shooed him away with a terse, “He’ll live,” and Spock returned to the bridge to command the ship and write his report.

 

The doors to the bridge whooshed open, and Uhura entered.  She walked right up to him and stood beside his chair, placing a hand on his arm.  He shifted fractionally toward her, allowing himself to breathe in her scent; despite the impropriety of physical contact on the bridge, he could not bring himself to move away from her touch.

 

“You should get some rest,” she said softly.

 

“I do not need rest,” Spock said.

 

“Yes, you do,” she said, looking down at him and raising one eyebrow.  “You’ve been on duty for over 24 hours.  I know I can’t make you sleep, but you need a break.”  She lifted her hand and let it hover next to his cheek, her eyes softening.  “Why don’t you go see how Jim’s doing, at least.”

 

“A good suggestion, thank you,” Spock said.  He stood up and reached out to gently, tenderly tuck a stray hair behind her ear.   It was not logical to worry about Uhura’s hair at such a moment, but no one was looking.  “Mr. Sulu – you have the conn.”  Uhura smiled and sat down at the communications console as he walked away.

 

Sickbay had finally quieted; the situation was stable.  Nurse Chapel was the last one on duty when he walked in.  She looked exhausted as she waved a tricorder over one of the security ensigns and motioned silently to the private room in the back of sickbay.

 

When Spock entered, the first thing he noticed was that Jim was awake.  He looked tired and paler than usual, but he grinned as the doors shut behind Spock, and Spock felt a tiny knot of tension (not worry, not fear, just tension) release in his stomach.  The second thing Spock noticed was that Dr. McCoy was slumped over in a chair, his head resting on his arms on Jim’s bed just next to Jim’s waist.

 

“It’s good to see you awake, Captain,” Spock said.

 

“Shhh,” Jim whispered.  “He’s sleeping.”

 

McCoy let out a soft snore as if to confirm Jim’s words.  Spock raised one eyebrow.  “Would you like me to wake him?” he asked, more quietly.

 

“No,” Jim said.  “No, let him sleep.”

 

“He would presumably be more comfortable in his quarters.”

 

“Ah,” Jim said.  “Presumably, yes.  But – just leave him.  I don’t think he’d be happy about being woken up.”

 

“He is most devoted to the health and safety of the crew,” Spock said.  “It is admirable.”

 

“That’s just Bones,” Jim whispered.  McCoy snored again, and Jim raised one hand and patted McCoy gently on the shoulder.  He looked down at the sleeping doctor with a perplexing mix of emotions on his face.  Spock put a small amount of effort into identifying them all – affection, relief, frustration – before Jim glanced up again and the look was gone.  “How’re the others?”

 

“Recovering,” Spock said.  “You were the most seriously injured, naturally.”

 

“Naturally,” Jim said, grinning again.  “Spock – is that my blood you’re covered in?”

 

Spock looked down.  He was, in fact, still wearing the uniform he had put on a full day earlier, and it was splattered with coppery brown blood, a stark reminder of the gravity of the day.  “It appears that it is.  Perhaps I should go change.  I’ll check in later for an update on your recovery, Captain.”

 

“Thank you, Mr. Spock,” Jim said.  As he turned and walked away, Spock saw Jim pat McCoy’s shoulder again gently, and wondered, as he had many times in the past, at the depth of friendship possible between humans.

 

5.

 

“Uhhhh, uhhhhh.”

 

Spock paused with the sonic toothbrush halfway to his mouth, listening intently.  The captain was moaning as if frightened, or perhaps as though he was in pain; Spock wondered what could be attacking Jim in his quarters in the middle of an otherwise peaceful gamma shift.

 

“Ohhhh yes, oh god yes, yes, yes.”

 

“Ah,” he said to himself, allowing the toothbrush to continue its journey to his mouth.  The sound creeping in from the door between the captain’s quarters and their shared bathroom was now unmistakable.  Some humans became rather vocal during sexual activity, as Spock knew rather well, and though he appreciated it when Nyota loudly indicated her pleasure during their relations, it was rather less pleasant to hear Jim vocalize his way through a sexual encounter.

 

“Uhhhhh, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

 

 _Belay that order_ , Spock thought.

 

Spock did not feel embarrassed – it was illogical to experience such an unhelpful emotion in any situation, much less in this one in particular, when he had done nothing wrong at all besides attempt to clean his teeth – but he understood that most humans considered their sexuality to be something very private, and thought that Jim would almost certainly not appreciate it if he knew that Spock had listened to him as he approached climax.

 

Spock quickly replaced the sonic toothbrush in the drawer and stepped into his own quarters.  The door slid shut behind him, and Jim’s voice was muffled considerably, but as Spock settled down for his nightly meditation, he found something even more distracting than his captain’s moans getting in the way of clearing his mind: curiosity.

 

This was not idle curiosity, of course.  Spock did not partake in the crew’s habit of gossiping.  Though he paid attention when Uhura relayed interesting updates about his fellows on board the Enterprise and tried to keep up with the joys and struggles of the men and women he commanded, he did not feel the borderline obsessive curiosity that so many of the crew seemed to feel about each other’s sexual lives.  Intensive attention to rumor when it came to sexual encounters seemed to be among the most universally stable human characteristics.

 

But this was about the captain, and as first officer, it was his duty to ensure that the ship and its captain were running smoothly.  He was not aware of any currently relevant gossip about Jim’s sex life – the Betazoid wedding had caused a stir of its own among the crew but was long since forgotten - and though there had often been jokes about Jim’s predilection for promiscuity when visiting alien planets populated by humanoid life forms, they had not visited any such planet in over three weeks, nor were there any non-crew life-forms aboard the Enterprise.   Therefore, the only logical conclusion was that Jim was engaging in a sexual relationship with a member of the crew.

 

That narrowed down the possibilities significantly.  Starfleet was flexible about many things, but it was considered conduct unbecoming of an officer to fraternize with anyone more than two ranks below.  Jim Kirk would do many things, but Spock thought he knew the captain well enough to determine that he would not jeopardize his command of the Enterprise for a sexual relationship.

 

Still – he could not be sure.  He wondered if, in his attempt to keep himself out of the ship’s grapevine, he had missed some crucial intelligence regarding his captain.  He resolved to inquire about recent gossip with Uhura, and, focusing all his energy on blocking out the memory of the captain’s increasingly high-pitched appeals to his sexual partner, settled into meditation.

 

-

 

“Is the captain engaging in a sexual relationship with a member of this crew?”

 

“Good morning to you too,” Uhura said, peering at him over a steaming cup of coffee.  She was apparently too accustomed to Spock’s direct manner of speaking to be startled when he approached her in the crew’s mess with the question the next morning.  “Why do you ask?”

 

“Curiosity,” Spock said.  Uhura raised one eyebrow.  “In a sense.  Please answer the question.”

 

“Not that I know of,” Uhura said, setting down her coffee.  “I haven’t heard anything about Kirk in a while, now that I think about it, and he couldn’t keep himself out of the rumor mill at the Academy.  Kind of weird, right?”

 

“Undoubtedly taking command of the Enterprise has tamed some of his more wild proclivities,” Spock said generously, and Uhura snorted her disbelief.  “Are you quite certain that there is no current rumor being passed around the ship about a sexual partner of his on board?”

 

“I haven’t heard, and I hear everything around here,” Uhura said.  “Why?  You’re not thinking about asking him to join us, are you?  Because he’s not really my type.”  Her eyes sparkled mischievously.

 

“Indeed he is not,” Spock said.  “Very well.  I must get to the bridge, but please inform me if you hear any gossip of this type.”

 

“Yes, sir,” Uhura drawled, and Spock pressed his lips together firmly, regretting that he had ever mentioned finding it stimulating when Nyota referred to him as “sir.”  Sometimes he cursed himself for following in his father’s footsteps and becoming attracted to an illogical human female.

 

-

 

Uhura essentially _was_ the rumor mill onboard the Enterprise, and when she reported back to Spock two days later that no one had anything even remotely interesting to say about the captain’s sex life, Spock began to feel concerned.

 

Most of the time, when two members of the crew were sleeping together, one of them either leaked the information on purpose to gain some notoriety for themselves, or else some confidant close to one of the two (or, in a few cases, three) involved parties let the details slip.  It was highly unusual, if not unheard of, for sexual relations between crew members to stay secret, and it seemed that the higher ranking the crew member was, the more their sex life fascinated the rest of the crew. Spock knew for a fact that news of his own relationship with Uhura had caused a most inappropriate and uncomfortable flurry of speculative conversation for a solid two weeks; if the aftermath of the Betazoid-handprint incident was any indication, he imagined that the news of Captain Kirk sleeping with anyone would occupy the crew for even longer.

 

The only explanation, then, for the combined circumstances of total certainty that Jim was involved in a sexual encounter with a member of the crew and the utter lack of gossip surrounded said encounter was that Jim and the other crew member were working hard to keep things quiet.  This secrecy indicated that there was some reason for the rest of the crew of the Enterprise to be kept in the dark, and Spock could not help but think that something about the relationship must be illicit.

 

It was an uncomfortable conclusion to arrive at, Spock mused. But it was one that needed to be addressed, and Spock was not one to postpone resolving an issue just because it might end up being uncomfortable.  That night, after he and Jim had gone over the latest mission briefing from Command and plotted their course for the next week in the captain’s quarters, Spock decided there was no time like the present.

 

“Permission to speak freely, Captain?”

 

Jim didn’t look up from the padd he was holding.  “How many times do I have to tell you not to even ask me that?” he said.

 

“I have a question for you that borders on the personal,” Spock said matter-of-factly.  “It concerns your sex life.”

 

“Is this how Vulcans ask each other out?  Are you hitting on me?” the captain said, looking up at Spock from under his eyelashes and grinning.

 

“Hardly,” Spock said, wondering why any time he wanted to talk about the captain’s sex life, someone found it necessary to imply that he wanted _his_ sex life to include the captain.  “I am asking because three nights ago I was in our shared bathroom and heard you making noises that indicated you were engaged in sexual intercourse.”

 

Jim blinked at him.  “I see.”

 

“While it was not my intent to eavesdrop on what is clearly your personal business, nor do I wish to interfere, your secrecy around this relationship is somewhat concerning.”

 

“Is it?  In what way?”

 

Spock got the impression that Jim was rather enjoying himself.  “Most crew members involved in regulation-approved inter-crew relationships, such as myself and Lieutenant Uhura, are somewhat open about said relationships, at least in the presence of officers of similar rank.  Therefore I must conclude that something about your current relationship is in fact inappropriate or out of the norm, or else you would have shared its existence with me, either as your first officer or perhaps as your friend.”

 

Jim was still staring at him expectantly.  “Is that all?”

 

Spock tilted his head.  The captain seemed most unperturbed, and Spock began to wonder if he had made a crucial miscalculation.  “Yes, that is all.”

 

“Great,” Jim said, leaning back in his seat.  “Then you don’t have anything to worry about.”

 

“My duties as first officer of the Enterprise include regularly confirming that the captain is following all regulations and is not in any way compromised in his command of the ship,” Spock said slowly.  “If you do not wish to share with me the details of your relationship with your – paramour – then I cannot – “

 

Jim burst out laughing.  “Did you just use the word paramour, Spock?  That was awesome.  I wish my paramour had been here to hear that.”

 

“Jim,” Spock said, once the captain had stopped laughing, “Is there a reason that you do not wish to divulge the name of your sexual partner?  Unless there is something improper about the situation, you know it would be illogical for me to pass any judgment.”

 

Jim sighed and studied Spock closely for a second.  “Is your relationship with Uhura simple?”

 

“I’m not sure what my relationship with Lieutenant Uhura has to do with – ”

 

“Just answer the question.”

 

It was not the easiest question to answer.  Spock and Nyota’s relationship was significantly more complicated and consisted of much more irrationality than most Vulcans would deem appropriate; however, Spock understood that by human standards, it was a fairly harmonious liaison, as Nyota was proudly not prone to what she called “dramatics.”

 

“We occasionally run into complications,” Spock admitted, sensing that the human angle was the appropriate one for this situation.  “That is, I believe, a fact of all human relationships.”

 

“Exactly,” Jim said.  “And in general, were you happy that people on the Enterprise found out about your relationship?  No – forget that, you’re never happy – was Uhura happy when people were openly discussing her sex life?  And for the record, I did not place any bets in that pool about whether or not Vulcans can have multiple orgasms, nor did I receive any Romulan ale as compensation for winning.”

 

Spock ignored the final part of the captain’s question, understanding that it was meant to tease and not to elicit a response.  “Nyota was understandably unhappy about being the focus of shipboard gossip, but I’m not sure what this has to do with anything.”

 

“My paramour - god I love that, I’m totally stealing that – would be even more unhappy than Uhura was about being the focus of shipboard gossip,” Jim said.  “I mean really unhappy.  As in, so unhappy that I would probably stop getting laid, and I know you know that me not getting laid cannot possibly be a good thing for the Enterprise.”

 

“I’m not sure that your level of sexual activity would have much effect on the Enterprise.”

 

“Yeah, but do you really want to find out?  And this relationship - it’s complicated.  I mean, it’s always complicated, right?  But this has been really complicated.”  Jim ran one hand through his hair.  “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

 

“No.”

 

Jim sighed.  “I’m not sleeping with anyone I shouldn’t be sleeping with.  But right now, I’m not in a place to make my personal life the most exciting thing happening on the Enterprise for the next month, and considering that your personal life includes the person who is the very definition of _shipwide communication_ , I can’t tell you anything.  I’m sorry.”

 

“There is no need to apologize,” Spock said.  The earnest look on Jim’s face was answer enough.  “I trust that you are being honest and will inform me of any updates as appropriate.”

 

“Spock,” Jim said seriously, “I can assure you that as soon as it makes sense to do so, I will tell you every last detail of my sex life.”

 

“That will not be necessary,” Spock said firmly.

 

“Of course, if you’d like to start right now by telling me every detail of your sex life, maybe that would speed things – ”

 

“Have a good evening, Captain.”

 

“Worth a shot.”

 

6.

 

For the first six hours of the ion storm, Captain Kirk paced around the cave where he and Spock had taken shelter after they had been separated from the rest of the landing party.  He alternated between discussing the possible success rate of attempting to beam out of an ion storm (very unlikely) and wondering out loud if the rest of the landing party had made it back to the ship (highly probable).  The fact that the final transmission they’d received on their communicators before the ion storm had become too severe for transmissions was Scott telling them he had locked on to Sulu, Uhura and McCoy, but not the captain and first officer, didn’t stop Jim from arguing.

 

“But aren’t you worried?” Jim repeated for the seventh time.   “Uhura might be out there somewhere.”

 

“I am confident that Lieutenant Uhura, Lieutenant Sulu and Dr. McCoy were able to beam off of the planet.  However, whether or not the landing party is safely aboard the Enterprise, my level of anxiety is irrelevant,” Spock said.

 

“Must be nice not to give a shit about anything,” Jim muttered.

 

“Captain, I can assure you that I care very much about the safety of the other members of the landing party,” Spock said coolly.  “But my concern is not the issue, and in all likelihood you and I are the only ones in danger at present.  Being overcome with emotion will not help us return the Enterprise.”

 

“Didn’t you just tell me we can’t do anything until the ion storm lets up?  So what else do we have to do besides worry?”

 

Spock had no response to that.  After seven hours, he attempted to convince Jim to eat one of the protein bars he had in his standard landing party emergency kit.  After thirteen hours, he threatened to nerve pinch him if he didn’t stop pacing and sit down.  Midway through hour eighteen, Spock’s communicator crackled, and they both stared at it as if willing the static to turn into something more, but then it went silent again.

 

“Yup, we’re gonna die down here,” Jim said dramatically, flopping down onto the dusty floor of the cave.

 

“I believe that is unlikely,” Spock countered.  “Perhaps you should get some sleep.  I can take the first shift.”

 

“’M not tired,” Jim said, and yawned.

 

“As you wish,” Spock said, leaning against the wall of the cave and feeling a bit tired himself.  It turned out that spending hours trapped in a 20 square meter space with a very anxious Jim Kirk was extremely mentally fatiguing.  Spock was somewhat surprised at Jim’s unforeseen fretfulness; he had never known the captain to be anything less than calm and collected in stressful situations.

 

“Aren’t you in love with Uhura?”

 

Even coming from Jim Kirk, it was a most unexpected query.  “I’m afraid I do not understand the question,” Spock said, looking down at Jim, who was still flat on his back on the cave floor.

 

“I assumed you were in love with her, but you don’t seem worried about her at all,” Jim said contemplatively.

 

“As I have said, feeling anxiety about the well-being of the others is neither useful nor relevant in this - ”

 

“Cut the psychobabble, Spock,” Jim snapped.  “Do you love her or not?”

 

“I do,” Spock said simply.

 

“But you don’t worry about her?”

 

“That is not entirely accurate,” Spock said.  “I do feel concern regarding her health and safety.  I appreciate the knowledge that she is happy, both on her own and with our relationship.  I derive satisfaction from her pleasure.”

 

“Wow.  I didn’t realize you were such a romantic.”  This was undoubtedly meant to sound sarcastic.

 

“People show love in different ways,” Spock said.  “Worrying about her is not one of the ways in which I show my love.”

 

“In different ways,” Jim echoed musingly.  “How did you know you were in love with her, then?”

 

Spock sat silently for a moment, reflecting.  He was more grateful than ever that Nyota did not demand such minute explanations of his feelings for her. 

 

“After knowing Nyota for some time, it became clear to me that I desired to be with her more than I desired to be without the complications and inconveniences of a relationship.  Under those circumstances, it was illogical to avoid entering into a bond when she felt similarly, as it would bring us mutual satisfaction.  We – fit.”  Spock shifted from one foot to the other.  “Captain, while I do not mind these personal inquiries, it does not seem that you are motivated by idle curiosity.  Might I ask – ”

 

“ _Enterprise to Kirk, come in_.”

 

Jim sat up quickly and scrambled for his communicator.  “Kirk to Enterprise, can you read me?”

 

“ _Captain, this is Lieutenant Sulu.  There’s a break in the storm.  We’ve got a lock on you and Commander Spock, we’re beaming you aboard_.”

 

“Is the rest of the landing party there?” Jim asked, his eyes locked with Spock’s, and Spock felt a moment of anxiety pass between them.

 

“ _Affirmative, Captain, they were beamed up right as we lost contact with you.”_

 

“Great.  Energize,” Kirk said, and Spock had to firmly press his lips together to avoid giving into the most childish taunt he could think of - “Told you so” - before he felt the familiar fading of the transporter.  Too much time spent with the captain was having a bad influence on him.

 

“Welcome back,” Mr. Scott said with a grin as they reappeared in the transporter room.  Spock had barely even stepped off the transporter pad when the doors slid open and Dr. McCoy burst in holding a medical tricorder.

 

“Both of you to sickbay, immediately,” he barked.  “That’s an order.”

 

“Doctor, I can assure you that we are both – ”

 

“Spock, who’s the doctor here?  Neither of you are cleared for duty until I say you are,” McCoy snapped.  “Get moving.”

 

Spock glanced at the captain, whose face was unusually blank.  Resigning himself, Spock followed McCoy to sickbay, where he perched himself on the end of a biobed and awaited his examination, watching as McCoy bustled around and adjusted the equipment.  A moment later, Uhura strode in.

 

“Hello, Lieutenant,” Spock said, and even across the room he saw her release a deep breath.

 

“Commander,” Uhura said, approaching his biobed and standing just out of reach.  She gave him a warm smile that made her eyes crinkle at the edges, and Spock felt as though he were home again.  “Captain.  Good to have you back.”

 

“Were you worried about us, Uhura?” Jim asked from the next biobed over.  Uhura glanced at him, and then returned her gaze to Spock.

 

“You two can take care of yourselves.  Anyway, worrying is useless,” Uhura said, and Spock felt his lips twitch as Jim burst out laughing.

 

“She’s turning into you, Spock,” Jim crowed.  Uhura rolled her eyes, and then leaned forward and brushed her lips very softly against Spock’s cheek.  Spock breathed in her scent and stayed perfectly still.

 

“I’m needed on the bridge,” she said quietly, and then she left.

 

“So that’s _different ways_ ,” Jim murmured, as Spock watched the doors shut behind her.

 

“What was that?” McCoy asked, returning to them and waving a modified tricorder over Spock’s head.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“As I expected, _you’re_ radiation-free, but you’re dehydrated,” McCoy declared, lifting up a hypospray.  Spock felt the familiar pinch on his neck, and some of his tiredness faded away.  “Sit there for a minute to make sure it worked.  Never can tell with you green-blooded types.”  He turned away and began waving the tricorder over the captain.  Spock considered arguing, but the intent look on McCoy’s face seemed to indicate that it would be better to keep his mouth shut to speed along the process of being cleared for duty.

 

“Bones,” Jim said hesitantly.

 

“Shut up, I’m checking to see if you’re dying of radiation poisoning.”

 

“I’m not dying of radiation poisoning.”

 

“You might be, getting yourself stuck on some desert planet for eighteen-plus hours,” McCoy growled.

 

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Jim said, a bit petulantly.  McCoy just shook his head and frowned down at his tricorder.

 

“Slightly elevated radiation levels in your blood, but I’ll have to do a level-two scan to see if they might affect your – ”

 

“So you’re still mad at me,” Jim said.  Spock lifted his eyebrows slightly; he had not seen any indication that Dr. McCoy was mad at the captain, although to be fair it was sometimes difficult to tell with Dr. McCoy.

 

“I’m not mad at you,” McCoy said quietly, glancing over his shoulder at Spock and then back at his tricorder.

 

“Yeah, you are.”

 

“Can we talk about this later?” McCoy said, and Spock determined that he must have missed something.  “Right now I need to figure out if you’re toxic to humanoid life forms or not and you’re making it mighty difficult.”

 

“Were you even worried about me?”

 

“For fuck’s sake, Jim,” McCoy snapped.  “Of course I was worried about you.”

 

“Doesn’t seem like it,” Jim said.  “Seems like you’re just angry.  I was worried about you, I thought maybe the rest of you didn’t make it back, and – ”

 

“Have you ever met me?  This is me worried,” McCoy said, tossing his tricorder on the bed and grabbing both of Jim’s shoulders roughly.  “We lost your life signs for seven hours in the storm.  I thought you were dead.  So don’t fucking talk to me about worried.”

 

Had Spock felt it would be appropriate to intervene, he would have mentioned to Jim that it did, indeed, appear that Dr. McCoy had been worried.  McCoy’s hands, still clenched on Jim’s shoulders, were shaking almost imperceptibly.

 

“Oh,” Jim said.  “Okay.”  McCoy’s head drooped.  “Hey,” Jim said quietly, and Spock was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to not be in the room.  “Hey.  I’m okay.”  Jim reached up and cupped McCoy’s face in one of his hands, his thumb tracing circles into McCoy’s jaw, and there might as well have been an audible _click_ in sickbay as everything fell into place in Spock’s mind.

 

“I know you’re okay,” McCoy said gruffly.  “Don’t know why you come in here guns blazing like I’m still pissed at you.  Got bigger things to worry about today.”  He leaned into Jim’s hand and they pressed their foreheads together in a comfortable, comforting way.

 

“Yeah,” Jim said, giving McCoy a half-smile.  “Like me almost dying and stuff.”

 

“It was a damn close call, you son of a bitch,” McCoy said, and Jim laughed.  McCoy released Jim’s shoulders and glanced back at Spock.  “You told the hobgoblin, then?” he said, with none of the usual snappishness of his less-than-endearing nickname.

 

“Oh,” Jim said, blinking and seeming to suddenly remember that Spock was still in the room, sitting just two feet away on the adjacent biobed.  “No.  I just forgot.”  He grinned and pulled Dr. McCoy’s face toward him, giving him a loud, smacking kiss on the side of his mouth.  McCoy grimaced and wrenched his head away from Jim’s lips as though this were behavior he was all too accustomed to.  “I think he’s figuring it out, though.”

 

“Indeed,” Spock said faintly.  “If I may be dismissed, Doctor?  I have duties to attend to on the bridge.”

 

“Yeah, duties, like celebrating being alive by making out with the communications officer in a turbolift,” Jim said with a snort.

 

“Get out of here, Commander,” McCoy said, rolling his eyes.  Spock jumped off the biobed and nodded at Jim and McCoy and heading for the doors.

 

“Just one thing, Captain?” Spock said, pausing before stepping out of sickbay.

 

“Anything, Spock,” Jim said, one of his arms wrapped around McCoy’s waist while McCoy resumed running his tricorder over Jim’s chest.

 

“Might you ask your paramour to remind you to keep it down this evening during your own celebrations?” Spock said, raising one eyebrow.  “It would be most appreciated.”

 

He turned to leave, and as the doors slid shut, he heard McCoy bark, “What the _fuck_ is he talking about?”


End file.
